


The grass can't be greener without you

by nurturedwhims



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Angst, F/F, Femslash, and amazing coincidences, are both happily present, but then happiness, over the top language, travelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 11:04:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3117827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nurturedwhims/pseuds/nurturedwhims
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was an amicable agreement of separation.</p>
<p>Or in Allison's opinion a highly painful tortuous mistake, that she can't seem to escape from.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The grass can't be greener without you

Allison had always liked being outdoors, the sun warm on her back as she studied or read and the air moving, dynamic and fresh, even as the afternoon progressed. She liked that sometimes she missed the phone when it rang and that hours could drift by, uncounted except for the lengthening shadows. She liked that the sun felt the same when it hit warm on bare skin no matter where you were in the world, no matter who you were with. That she knows how to say ‘hello,’ ‘yes’ and ‘please’ in 23 different languages. And that someone will smile at you, without expectation or prompting, wherever you end up.

Allison liked that she could look at the same moon each night, could know that somewhere across the world the sun was rising and that soon enough it would rise here too, a cycle she could keep faith in, breathe with. It was almost easy sometimes to get through the days and ignore the deep aching within her. Sometimes she even managed to think it wasn’t such a bad thing they had agreed to this. Agreed to this separate life. But the memories were never far from the surface. Tears were held back too frequently, too similar laughs still displaced her, no matter how far she managed to travel.

Allison hated their agreement. Hated that she ever went along with it, or thought that separation would ever lead to anything but loss. But she wasn’t going to be the one to break. She wasn’t going to face risk interrupting Lydia’s inevitable happiness just because she wasn’t strong enough. That wasn’t going to be the ending. She knew time would let her move on. Eventually.

It is odd, leaving a country known for so long, for even the grass and weeds of another land to be different. The bright green of England gives way to brown grass and cracking stems, which in turn changes to moss if you go high enough up a mountain. There are different flowers to smell, tiny purple flowers that hide in grasses few seem to notice, even roses growing wild and different as the towns change. Lydia had always loved roses, not the too corralled red roses of florists, but the pink bush in the corner of Allison’s garden and the plant beside an old church they once found that had only two precariously attached yellow roses.

Allison doesn’t smell roses anymore. Would laugh because Lydia has taken from her the very ability to appreciate in any real sense one of the key romantic symbols, if it weren’t so pathetically painful. Allison never cried over anyone before Lydia. Never really understood the stories or the songs that heralded a love to start wars and break hearts before she met this one girl. This painfully compelling, beautiful woman. Until it ended she never really understood how integral, how deep, her love for Lydia had been. It was hard to grasp, to define, and then it all became lost. Allison hadn’t even realised how much of a mistake she was making when she and Lydia parted, never got the chance to say anything valuable, and that could be just the saddest element of all?

 

It was a mistake when they met again. A work of a deity perhaps, or just endlessly impossible good luck. There was a café in a big city and the sun stretching the afternoon out, long and slow. It was bright; huge windows giving a glimpse into the wandering life outside the scope of the quiet room. Allison was curled into one of the collection of old chairs, reading in the slowly shifting café. The book was an old thing, the language aged enough to grasp her attention and keep her away and happily distanced from the world circling around her. Allison wasn’t looking when she entered, didn’t see the one pair of boots that had lasted with Lydia for more than a season walk to the counter or the red of her hair shine bright in the light. 

It was her voice, her voice unforgettable even after all these months that drew Allison’s attention. 

It was almost unbelievable, that Lydia was standing there, that they were actually in the same place. That in one of the dozen countries Allison had trekked through Lydia was here, existing in the same sphere as her once more. Time had brought them together and neither had broken the agreement Allison still cursed. Lydia’s dress was floral and undoubtedly expensive, fell soft and close to her bare legs. Allison wanted to trace the smooth lines, remind herself of the feelings she had tried to forget about for too long. Needed to connect back to Lydia, to make sure it wasn’t some ridiculous hope driven hallucination. 

“Lydia”

The other woman turned, red hair whipping around, eyes wide as she looked on Allison.

Allison uncurled from her chair, not knowing the next step to take, there were no rules for this. Her heart was beating a quick rhythm. The steps keeping them separate seeming wider in the silence than the seas that had existed between them. Lydia spoke, finally breaking the moment that had stretched on between them.

“Allison” And then she smiled, a smile to star in paintings and prose. “It would seem fate is no keener on our previous agreement than I am.”

“I suppose that puts the three of us in sync then.” Allison smiled, finally closing the gap between them as Lydia waited, smiling and perfect, for her. 

Allison threw her arms around Lydia, letting her heart beat against Lydia’s own as Lydia’s head came to rest in Allison’s neck. Allison pressed gentle lips into the other woman’s impossibly soft hair as she tightened her arms around Allison’s back. They didn’t say anything as they stood. Felt each other warm and real on a slow afternoon in a perfectly obscure country and nothing needed to be said.

They left the café with fingers entwined, hope strong in their hearts and a world full of roses and countries before them.

**Author's Note:**

> God I love these two. Thankyou for reading!   
> I am nurturedwhims on tumblr too, where I reblog art and write sometimes.  
> Comments/Kudos always appreciated :)


End file.
